


bite of lightning

by pahdme



Category: Naruto
Genre: BAMF Haruno Sakura, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Kakashi is so traumatized and it hurts all my feelings, Mutual Pining, Sakura swears like a sailor sorry, because i can't help myself, because too little people portray Sakura as the bomb ass woman she is, first fanfic so be gentle, lots of aggression and confusing feelings, more characters might make appearances but I haven’t gotten more prepared yet, no beta we die like men, some unrequited hinted love between ino and sakura, what do you call slow burn that isn’t really all that slow? medium burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-01-15 08:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pahdme/pseuds/pahdme
Summary: And she’s wondered, Sakura remembers, she’s wondered for so long, if she touches it, will she feel the bite of lightning? Will she feel the shock, the static and its white hot pain? Or will his hair be soft and flow around her fingers like quicksilver? Her hands twitch at her side and she thinks to herself that she’ll find out, one day; even if it means forcefully pinning him down.a somewhat slow burn Kakashi/Sakura fic full of anger, pining, friendship, heartache and, of course, love! (and a lot of smut because we're all filthy here)reworked! OG fic up to chapter 4, everything onward is rewritten <3





	1. catching lightning in your palm

**Author's Note:**

> henlo lovely people!! I’d like to preface this by saying that this is my first time writing a fanfic. I used to role play as a teenager but haven’t written in earnest or for my own pleasure in a couple years but slowly revived that passion by reading more and more fanfics in different fandoms. then I listened to Hozier’s debut album again and got hit with an overwhelming amount of feelings for this couple. Pretty much all songs that are about lovers on that album are very well applicable to the two and I just finally felt moved enough to write an actual fic for a pairing. while I don’t think this story will be an epos, or the true slow burn I pine for but I plan on it being multi chapter!
> 
> hope you enjoy nevertheless, i’ll shut my mouth now lol

Sakura hasn’t spared him more than a glance and an occasional eye roll all day. Something about the humid heat of July always has her hackles raised, she’s ready to punch and ready to tear her clothes off in the same second, it’s just a matter of circumstances that tips her over either side of the edge. Kakashi’s arm is black and blue and he’s almost sure to have seen a glimmer of unadulterated pleasure in her eyes the last time she’s deigned her gaze on him. Right before her fist connected with his shoulder and he saw spots. She’d healed him but her bedside manner needed work, he found, scolds such as “should’ve seen it coming” and “maybe keep your mouth shut next time” weren’t exactly, well, comforting. By the time he’s settled by the fire, Kakashi deems it wiser to feign sleep than invite more of her battery, no matter how friendly she dubs it. Maybe she’d be gentler on him by the time her watch is over, maybe, he hopes before drifting off, she’ll look at him again when she speaks.

She looks at him now, his oddly peaceful face leaned against the log behind him. Before Sakura can halt herself she’s drinking him in, in fat gulps like a parched beggar. His gloved hands are clasped over his solar plexus, resting below the pockets of his flak jacket. _He might as well be dead,_ Sakura thinks, _looking like a corpse in his casket._ But that’s exactly why she knows he’s neither dead nor truly sleeping, Kakashi would never look this peaceful while still drawing conscious breaths. There is no peace in him, there is no calm, Sakura can smell it on him. It does not matter how much he slouches, it does not matter how aloof he forces himself to be, how many fucking jokes he cracks or how brazen yet unfazed he acts when whipping out his stale pornography in public — Kakashi knows nothing of peace. He is as serene as the current and maybe that is why Sakura keeps close. After all, what are the currents without the tide?

Her mind coils back into her head after it’s excursion and her sea foam gazes washes up his neck. She’s felt the cloth of his mask with her eyes so many times she could paint it thread for thread from memory alone. So she does not linger on the cut of his jaw or the arrow of his nose. She’s barely flickering over his slanted hitai-ate for the kunoichi feels an odd urgency to cast her gaze upon the mess of white hair.

And she’s wondered, Sakura remembers, she’s wondered for so long, if she touches it, will she feel the bite of lightning? Will she feel the shock, the static and its white hot pain? Or will his hair be soft and flow around her fingers like quicksilver? Her hands twitch at her side and she thinks to herself that she’ll find out, one day, even if it means forcefully pinning him down.

The medic shifts her weight and so does the fire, it cracks before puffing sparks into the air. Her mint eyes gleam and Sakura grins like a child learning a secret.  
The quiet voice inside her whispers, _**especially** if it means pinning him down._

* * *

  
“How does it feel?”

His mind is sluggish and he can’t follow her, can’t remember if she spoke of something before.

“How does _what_ feel?” he asks, voice rough with drowsiness. The copy nin is slow and close to her pulse as he rests his temple on her shoulder again. She’s annoyed, he can hear the roll of her eyes in the click of her tongue.

“Your chidori, you idiot. _How does it feel?”_ she asks again.

All the cells in his body startle and he thinks he’s choking, the softness of sleep a mere ghost that fled his body.

Wet. It feels like Rin’s chest pulsing around his wrist, like her flesh sliding against itself when the life seeped out of her. Like her sternum cracking beneath his knuckles. Kakashi shuts his eyes, squeezes them and swallows the clump of nausea that crawls up his throat. Sakura is perfectly still at his side, a cat waiting for her mouse to move. Patiently she waits for his response. If there is none, she won’t ask again but she can feel him tense again, can feel him brace himself to speak.

“Not good.”

The answer is so blunt, so unadorned she can’t help but feel that childish twinge of disappointment in her belly. She can’t help herself with a lot of things around him lately. Her shoulders sag and she turns her attention to the loose string in her dress’s hem.

Kakashi notices. Of course he does, his head is jostled from her shoulder and he sits up straight against the shed. Her disappointment is quickly swinging into annoyance, he notes, as she rips the string her nimble fingers played with. Gods was she young. How could he explain to her? She felt _so_ young to him all of a sudden. Full of vigor and blunt curiosity. A silver voice echoes in his heart, swift like a weasel with all its needlepoint teeth.

_Does she feel young or do you feel old, Kakashi?_

Of course, _of course_ he knows Sakura is not as young as she feels next to him now. Then again, in that moment he feels like he’s millennia old. Bones of dust, shoulders cracking beneath the globe’s weight. His brows draw together because he knows that she could’ve walked this earth for centuries and she’d still seem young as spring to him. _That’s a troublesome thought, _he finds, _I **never** felt like spring._

Kakashi knows all the horrors she has seen in her 24 years, knows of all the power she holds, trembles over it if he thinks of it too long even, if in awe or fear he could not say, nevertheless he cannot help but think that _this_ is something she should not ever hear about. Not from him at least.

The world would fall off its axis before he’d want to talk about it anyway. Her question had stirred that drowsy pain he’s carried inside himself so long, tucked away so neatly it’s become inventory to his being. Kakashi was sure it should be smooth as a pebble now, rolled around in his gut for years. But it’s not, and he finds himself surprised whenever a jagged edge stabs him again.

She wants to punch him. Knock his lights out since he isn’t present with her anyway. He spat out that terrible answer and retreated into his head again, charcoal eye glossed over and unseeing. Sakura stands abruptly, elbowing him in the ribs as she goes and it seems to rip him from his mind’s grasp, they both know it is on purpose. While she would not be described to possess cat-like grace, the kunoichi holds purpose in every move. There is no awkwardness in her anymore. She stripped herself of that piece by piece when she took that first step up the bark of a tree many years ago.

“If you don’t want to talk, don’t bother answering in the first fucking place,” she barks over her shoulder. “I’m going home.”

With that he’s on his feet, stalking after her before he wrangles his body into submission, curving his spine to a slouch, hands sliding into his pockets and stretching his steps so he can walk slower yet cover the same amount of ground.

“Maa, Sakura, don’t be so prickly now,” he soothes though he can still taste the grit of his teeth on the tip of his tongue. “Why do you want to know anyway?”

She stops after half a dozen steps and kicks the muddy dirt with her sandal, not gracing him with a glance. They had taken shelter from the rain under the slim roof of the shed, surprised by the summer shower on one of their walks. They do that a lot these days. Take walks like an old couple.

“Why wouldn’t I want to know?” she answers defiantly and her cheeks are flushed. Her anger is always so vivid on her face, it could be called charming if her rage over it wasn’t so frightening. The petulance in her voice however he does not find charming and he breezes past her, “Don’t be childish, Sakura.”

The words crack like a whip even in his calm timbre and Sakura feels like she’s a love sick preteen again, scolded by her sensei. She swallows the ugly burn of shame and defies the urge to stomp her foot, instead she chooses to glare at him, “Don’t be fucking condescending, Kakashi.” White hair is turning grey under the thick drops of rain but he does not seem to mind when it begins to droop over the hitai-ate. His eye crinkles and she just wants to punch him even harder. His calm demeanor makes her anger feel so much hotter on her skin and she swallows back a huff when he speaks again.

“Come on, why did you want to know?” There’s that softness in his voice, Sakura knows it like the back of her hand and it envelops her. The red flush drains from her face and the fury calms behind her irises. _Fuck._ Not only does he always manage to put out her fires but now she has to fess up to her original motivations. Which were less than pure and only held purpose in teasing him really, but she just had to make a big deal of it, didn’t she? _Great fucking job, Haruno._

Kakashi watches attentively as her whole demeanor turns. He can practically see the flames around her dissipate to smoke and now she’s shifting her weight from one leg to the other. If he didn’t know her better, he’d say she’s nervous. Each hip swinging and jutting out the larger she makes her movements and it’s hypnotizing to him, like a pendulum. He won’t press her, he could watch her squirm like this all night.

“I really expected a different answer, you know,” she starts, “something more pleasant. More... _euphoric._” His brows draw up his forehead at her last word, before they fall back down, knitting together in a frown. She’s lost him, he really isn’t catching her drift and Sakura sets her jaw to avoid rolling her eyes. The kunoichi is thoroughly annoyed with herself at this point. Sakura has not known herself like this in a long time, she does not shy away from uncomfortable topics anymore and has no qualms with speaking bluntly about them. The rain is getting to her at this point and the feeling of her wet shirt clinging to her back is distracting, so she walks. Twigs and small branches crunch under her sandals and the ground gives wet squelches under the force of her steps. There’s silence between them for a couple minutes but she knows he’s following her dutifully, and finally she meets his eye over her shoulder.

“I thought that maybe it feels like an orgasm,” her voice is firm, no shame or awkwardness tugging at her vocal chords, “like a good one, you know?”

Kakashi snorts, the words bypass his lips before he can think better of it, “Are there bad orgasms?” In return Sakura scowls at him as though he’s just asked a question of unbelievable stupidity.

“Of course are there bad orgasms!” Her tone is bewildered but he still looks clueless and so his ex student takes pity on him. “A bad orgasm is for example when you’re really pent up, like on a mission, but you’re in the middle of fucking nowhere so all you can do is get yourself off. Alone. And it’s kind of mediocre because all you want is another person, but again, there’s only,” here she scrunches her nose, “teammates and animals all around. So your body is sort of satisfied but the mind sure as fuck isn’t. _That’s_ a bad orgasm.”

Slowly Kakashi nods but his head isn’t in it, he’s reeling. First of all, where they really having this conversation right now? Second of all, good gods, how many times has she gotten herself off when they where on a mission and was left unsatisfied when he could’ve given her so much more?  
Oh, but _that’s_ a bad thought. That’s a thought he shouldn’t have. He knows and pushes it aside so he can answer her before she breaks another one of his ribs with her steel elbow.

“Huh,” he shrugs, feigning casualty, “can’t say I’ve had that problem.” It is such a nasty lie he can feel himself suppress a gag. By her explanation the better part of his orgasms in the past five years were ‘bad’ orgasms. Water droplets from his hair find their way beneath his collar and roll down his back and he shifts his shoulders uncomfortably as he takes two, three large steps to walk beside her. She rolls his eyes when his shoulder catches in her peripheral vision.

“But no, chidori doesn’t feel like an orgasm,” the fresh grin in his voice rattles in Sakura’s rib cage, “at least not directly. It’s the same electricity, but it’s more like really good foreplay.” For a split second he’s afraid that he’s being too bold when he hears the faint hitch in her breath, but, hey, she started it. “You know, when it’s stretched across the whole day. Tension fueled by ‘accidental’ small lingering touches, an innuendo that makes your spine tingle. Hot breath on the shell of your ear, nothing direct but enough to stir the heat so by the time you get some privacy it’s absolutely unbearable. _That’s_ what chidori feels like.”

Kakashi remembers now, he mulled over it while Sakura scraped up her composure and remembered what the chidori felt like at first, when he developed it. Before it made him nauseous.

They reach the split in the road where their paths usually part and Sakura’s face is hot. The violent flush of her cheeks is burning bright and she wouldn’t be surprised if she panted like a dog. Mint green eyes spear his face in rage but they’re restless. Sloppily they flit all over before settling on the sopping locks brushing his forehead.

Her breath catches in her throat, a troubling urge spreads from her navel and she realizes: right now, Sakura wants to catch lightning in her palms. _His hair would just be the closest thing, no?_

She does not need to see his bare face to know that he grins. Toothy and dirty, and if she was a teenage girl again, it would make her knees buckle.

“Come on, let’s get you home. You’re dripping wet.”


	2. love language: bar brawls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who commented on my first chapter!! and left kudos and bookmarked of course! it really meant the world to me and I hope this chapter will be just as well received as the first even if there's significantly less interaction between kakashi and sakura. also my chapters feel terribly short to me, I just stop at points that feel most organic to me.
> 
> on a fun note, who will catch the mean girls reference
> 
> lastly I'd like to preface this by saying I don't think everyone is going to like Sakura's and Ino's relationship or the way I portrayed them but this chapter was just super fun for me to write. I dropped the first chapter kind of in a hit and run manner and then put off writing until today. but once I started it just burst forth and here we are :^)
> 
> enjoy, or something like that!

“I think I’m going to fuck Kakashi.”

Ino snorts her Cabernet all over the linen cushions and swears under her breath. Sakura is unfazed and calmly sucks stray teriyaki sauce off her thumb, barely regarding her best friend in her half assed cleanup. The clattering of the glass against the coffee table and a tea towel being violently pat against red stains fills the silence between them easily. With watering eyes the blonde eventually musters up the strength and a free hand to shove her roommate hard.

“Forehead, one day I’ll throttle you,” Ino glowers, her voice heavy and raspy from coughing a couple times. She cleans her nose unceremoniously into the soiled tea towel and tosses it onto the cluttered coffee table. Silence stretches for a full breath, then a glint strikes in her blue eyes, “tell me more.”

Sakura grins. The cat got the cream and so she leans back into her own corner of the couch. She’s just about to open her mouth and lay out her indecent plan with great pleasure when Ino is quicker.

“Fucking _finally!_ With how much time you two have spent together the past year, it's overdue,” Ino briefly raises her brows with a pointed side eye and dares to nip at her wine again, “I mean, the whole village has been talking.”

And just like that, that _casually,_ Ino stole Sakura’s thunder. All smugness has left her, for once Sakura thought she’d upstage her best friend— _It’s not a competition._ But it kind of is. Isn’t it? She’s staring, eyes wide and now it’s her turn to reach for her wine. With a huff into the glass Sakura swallows it whole and refills it with tense hands, strangely angry now to find that they’ve been the town’s talk. And over nothing at that. _Oh, I’ll give them something to talk about._

The first sip of her refill washes down the anger, at least further down, and her head swivels back toward Ino. But again, the blonde beats her to the punch.

“Why? I mean, why _now?_”

Sakura isn’t prepared for this question. When she practiced this conversation under the shower, because who would she be if she didn’t prepare ahead of time, she thought her best friend would interrogate her on banalities. Strategy, dress code, positions. (Yeah, she snorted over that one and then spent half a minute dry heaving from the body wash foam she inhaled). But Sakura really gave no thought to her motives, or what had inspired this change of heart because if she was frank with herself, and Sakura generally was, she had no answer. Or none that didn’t scare the absolute shit out of her. Dumbfounded she drowns her gaze in her wine until Ino’s long fingernail stabs her triceps.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love or some bullshit like that,” she deadpans and Sakura laughs, out loud and bumbling like tennis shoes in the washing machine.

“No! No don’t worry,” she shakes her head once composure has picked up her scatterbrain and her shoulders let go of the rigid cramp blossoming up her neck. The wine begins to take effect and Sakura tells Ino, grinning yet soft, about their walk the week before. She tells her of that searing innuendo he slapped her with on the open road and their thinly veiled race toward her home.

There’s a soft pause in her telling and Ino knows not to interrupt, she can practically watch the words form in her chest before they spill over her wine stained lips in a pitter patter.

“I asked him inside, you know. Offered him a towel, all sly. He declined like a gentleman.” Ino hums in agreement, oddly enough expecting nothing less from the infamous Shinobi.

“And I tried again, offered to at least chuck his vest into the dryer. For a split second I thought he’d take me up on it, I didn’t even really think about what I was asking.” She laughs and Ino joins her.

“Pure instinct, huh?”

“Yeah. He already leaned toward the door but then he stopped,” Sakura’s lip catches beneath her front tooth as she considers telling Ino this, “he almost looked a little scared and for fuck’s sake, I was so short of grabbing his collar then, to tear him inside. He said goodbye so fast though, I couldn’t even react before that asshole slipped away.”

While the roommates often speak freely about their sexual lives and romantic foolery, it is seldom that the tone is soft. Their nature is not gentle, it’s all bites and more or less friendly jabs. A friendship that enjoys the tension of being enemies; it makes the comfort in these rare moments so much more indulgent.

“So, naturally, you take this as a challenge,” Ino says after a drink break for them both. Sakura laughs.

* * *

  
“They talk about us, you know?” She asks, voice soft like rain in spring. His mismatched eyes lift to hers, firm hands still wringing out the wet headband between his fingers. There’s a glint in her eyes, it strikes the dry tinder in them both and her cheeks glow with fresh warmth.

“They do?” His voice is even, but if she looks closely, and Sakura does, she can see one corner of his mouth lift. The fire grows bright, it boils his insides.

She nods and he does not ask what they say. He does not need to.

* * *

  
Kakashi cradles his pint with gloved hands, pacing the shove from side to side to the thumps against the dart board across the bar. It’s his second drink and there’s no buzz lightening his limbs but he can work on that tonight.

He has not seen Sakura since he fled her presence the second time. This time he abandonded her by the river in a quiet, near panic ten days ago. _A cool down,_ that’s what he calls it in his mind, not that they saw each other daily before. She’s busy, always, and far busier than him, because she does actually meaningful shit, unlike him. He quickly derails that train of thought, self loathing already makes up a big enough part of the meaningless shit he wastes his time with.

“What’s on your mind, senpai?” Yamato sits to his side and claps his shoulder before Kakashi can continue to glare a hole into the bottom of the glass. He turns to his side, head rotating in his junior’s direction and there’s already a lie wiggling down his palate when a flash of pink catches his eye. Ah, just who he was going to lie about. He sees now that she’s the cause for the heavy thumps on the dart board and Sakura’s not alone. She’s raising her hand to aim for the sixth or seventh time already but keeps turning sideways to talk and her whole body speaks with her. Kakashi always thought that the best word to describe her is _vivid._ She does everything with her chest. She works, talks, eats, feels and fights full throttle. It’s beguiling.

  
From the corner of her eye Sakura can see Ino inch into her wobbly field of vision. The blonde raises her hand and forms a V with her index and middle finger, when she slides her long pink tongue in a lick between them Sakura can’t help but sneer, finally taking down her aiming hand.

“You are _such_ a slut, Pig. And that is a _lousy_ attempt at distracting me.” As if to make a point Sakura aims again and throws her dart, just barely skimming past Ino’s bejeweled ear and sinks into the board to the right of the metal line dividing the triple twelve from the triple one. Okay fine, maybe Ino did distract her marginally.

Said blonde slides into her seat triumphantly and promptly crowds Tenten who’s keeping score to glance over her shoulder down onto the stained notepad.

“You can’t beat me anymore,” Ino slurs, slinking back to the edge of the bench when the words register and her win lights up her face like the afternoon sun. Ino is bright and shining, a vision of gold and cobalt, cheering on herself and Sakura rolls her jade eyes.

“Suck a limp dick, Ino,” she barks and just for good measure she throws her dart in her direction, watching as it burrows deep into the wood of the table right between Ino’s resting elbows.

“Boo, you whore,” comes the slurred retort and again, just for good measure, Ino lamely chucks a handful of peanuts back.

“You want to take this outside, Yamanaka?”

While maybe not as drunk as Ino, Sakura still feels the floor wobble mildly beneath her feet and she comes to briefly regret her challenge. She could still properly dent her roommate’s face but whether she’d get away unscathed is not such a certainty anymore.

“Enough! Both of you! I can’t take you guys anywhere, I just wanted to have a nice night out!” Hinata’s voice cuts through the two just as Ino pushes herself up. They both stare toward their generally mild mannered friend, dumbfounded and gaping like two plastered fish.  
_I see how she keeps Naruto in check,_ Sakura thinks for a split second and a shy, apologetic smile curls up her lips. It wasn’t above her to start a bar brawl with her best friend but she did not want to ruin Hinata’s night and so she whispers a quick sorry. With a nod toward the bar Sakura catches Ino’s eye, a silent invitation, no longer sour with her defeat.

  
“Is Sakura involved with anyone?” The words are past his lips and Kakashi contemplates a life of silence as soon as he’s spoken them. _Masked and mute will be a good combo, right?_

Yamato almost chokes on his sip and his brows furrow deeply at the question, instantly he shoots Kakashi a long quizzical look. They both stare at the other, a battle of knuckleheads. Kakashi daring Yamato to press him for a reason and Yamato daring Kakashi to explain himself, but before either can break the other’s resolution a voice pipes up from the seat to their left.

“She doesn’t fuck with guys from the village.”

Genma shifts his senbon with a click against his teeth from right to left and gives a lazy grin to the two before sipping on his beer.

“How do _you_ know?” A bunch of different emotions – jealousy, suspicion and surprise at the forefront – clash and knit together to form Kakashi’s irritated tone. Which in turn just earns him an even more outraged stare of question from Yamato. Kakashi has half a mind to flippantly wave his hand at his friend, sensing the question gargling in his throat and threatening to bury Kakashi in answers and thoughts he has no control over.

Acting disinterested, like he didn’t just throw out that bomb of information, Genma leans back on the bar, but his earthy eyes scan the crowd and stick to a whipping blond ponytail and the body draping over Tenten’s shoulder.

“Ino told me.”

Even Yamato leans forward, far enough now to almost upset his bar stool’s balance. Kakashi still eyes Genma expectantly but his eyelids droop down into that half lidded expression again, the alarm is gone from his heart and vertebrae for vertebrae he relaxes, mirroring Shiranui slowly as he slouches against the bar. A frown sneaks onto Yamato’s face, he’s beginning to question if he even wants to hear his explanation.

Uncomfortable with their burning gazes, Genma shrugs again, but doesn’t meet either pair of eyes, “C’mon, you know… Pillow talk.”

Kakashi snorts something about a ‘_domesticated dog_’, unsurprised that these two have found the other at last and takes a long drag from his beer. Yamato on the other hand makes a face like a dog biting a lemon – displeased and unsure what to do with this new disgusting information.

“Just don’t picture it, Tenzo,” he hears the reassuring whisper of his senior and nods numbly once he’s settled back into his seat and feels Kakashi pat his arm a couple times. The thought of Ino and Genma together and the accompanying questions of ‘how’ and ‘when’ distract the Copy Nin entirely and he would’ve forgotten, at least briefly, all about a disarming cherry blossom and the knot she tied in his guts, if said ‘cherry blossom’ wasn’t stealing his beer right that moment.  
He can only watch hypnotized as the amber liquid disappears between plumped and glossed lips. With every needy gulp his gaze drops down an inch, stopping somewhat primly at her throat, and his breaths feel more and more like water filling his lungs the further she cocks her head back and exposes skin like a stream of milk. _I want to drink her like she’s drinking that beer,_ he thinks and frowns. _Bad thought. Also that’s **my** beer._

“Sakura, get your own,” he means to be firm and his hands even twitch toward the glass but the chide lacks bark and they both know. He’s a tired dog and she’s the raging fireside he wants to curl up next to.

A satisfied ‘Ah’ slips from her sinful mouth and Sakura sets his empty glas primly next to him as though she’s serving it to him. With the grace of a boxer she wipes her lips with the back of her hand. It’s a careless movement and her lips drag as the lip gloss sticks to her arm. The kunoichi feels abuzz with liquid courage, like a walking flame and she forgets Ino on her heel, Kakashi’s companions and all her slim inhibitions when she leans forward and bluntly presses a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek. Too close to his mouth for comfort and too open mouthed to be chaste.

“But yours tastes better, Sensei.” If the kiss alone didn’t turn Kakashi’s skeleton to steel, the honorific made sure that his muscles contract so tightly he can’t breathe. It’s been so long since he’s asked her to abandon it and she only slipped up one more time afterward, from then on out (and apparently until now) he is just Kakashi with her. He does not want to be her sensei anymore. Her sensei should not think the kind of thoughts that he has about her.

Yamato is about to topple out of his chair from the sheer force of his eye roll, an unsaid snarky sentiment of _‘I see’_ is drowned in his own beverage. The company that trailed on the tips of her candy cotton tresses snorts and Kakashi barely registers Ino moulding her curves into Genma’s form. To his luck Kakashi does not need to find taunting words in his suddenly dry mouth, he feels like he’s chewing raw cotton because as always, Sakura is his saving grace with her hearty tease.

“Found the limp dick, I see.”

There’s a clatter and a liquid pop of the senbon dropping into Genma’s pint, but it drowns in the noise of Sakura’s yelp as Ino’s manicure buries at her scalp and pulls on pastel tresses.

“_Fuck_ Hinata’s night out. We’re taking this outside, Haruno. _Now!_”


	3. don't do this to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe I lied when I said this isn’t going to be slow burn

Sakura’s back arches in a tight bow and her head falls back with a choked gasp when Ino’s hand twists in her hair and forces her down onto her knees as though in prayer. If she wasn’t so drunk and if every fibre of her body didn’t scream to _fight,_ knowing full well that she could shatter her best friend’s face, she would look up at Ino and understand why mankind is supposed to fear angels. A truly terrifying albeit enrapturing sight she is, towering over her now, blazing and blonde and angelic against the dingy bar light.  
But, well, in the split second Sakura takes to drive her fist into Ino’s right hip, there is no time for admiration or musings. With a sharp curse the manicured hand slips free from conditioned pink locks and the blond’s hourglass frame stumbles back, fighting for balance as Sakura straightens and swings again. Ino finds purchase against a stray bar stool and shifts her weight forward again, fresh fist shooting for her.

It’s like déjà vu to him, if someone asked him right then, Kakashi couldn’t tell if he is bearing witness to a bar fight between girlfriends or the chuunin exams a decade and some change ago. It’s the same scene, the same fury and the same clap of knuckles meeting delicate cheekbones. The difference is, they’re both drunk and their elbows buckle easily before they stumble each backward on too high heels for such impact. Time runs slow and once the stupor wears away, he’s off his seat and curling his gloved fingers around Sakura’s upper arm. Kakashi and Genma shove the furies away from each other as the shinobi stand back to back, creating a barrier between them. _Just in case._ And rightfully so, because she’s already charged against him, burning holes into Ino behind him with her stare. Yet all she’s really burning is his chest, he feels scorched in every place where she’s pressed into him, so his palm finds her other shoulder and he puts an arm’s length between them.  
The action is like the rain on her fire; wild eyes find his face now and her brow arches in a curious look. He can’t bear it, avoids her gaze. The relief at Ino’s venomous hiss over his shoulder is nauseating.

“Sakura, this is _not_ over.” But by tomorrow it will be and when they sit across the breakfast table, pelting aspirin at the other, all ugly words and sloppy punches will be forgotten. As it always is. Their love language is physical touch and there’s nothing quite as loving as your best friend’s ring cutting your cheek when she strikes you over a flippant tease.

The breeze outside of the bar is warm and tastes vaguely of booze. Booze and blood. _Or maybe that’s just the inside of my mouth,_ Sakura thinks while her tongue gingerly swipes at her bottom teeth. Tenten left after Hinata’s unsurprisingly bitter but dignified exit due to finding her friends trying to beat each other to pulp. _Can’t take you guys anywhere,_ the words repeat in Sakura’s head and she snorts to herself in neutral agreement, eyes cast down upon her electric blue toes in those painful stilettos Ino physically forced her into earlier that evening. At least they make her ass look divine and that kind of makes up for being numb from the ankle down. What’s Ino’s favourite saying? _Ah yes, beauty is pain._ Her soft fingertips brush up over her cheek and she’s got half a mind to heal the wicked bruise from forming. But Sakura also kind of wants to show it off the next morning and have her best friend be delighted with pride over her work, it’s childish and a little barbaric but everybody’s got their rituals.

“... pay for that beer. Sakura, did you even listen to me?”

Now there’s soft fingers under her chin, directing her face upward, but these fingers don’t belong to her this time and her swimming gaze tears away from her toes.

Kakashi has her head tipped back as he leans into her field of vision, trying his hardest to catch her eye and figure out whether she’s ignoring him deliberately or if she’s just that drunk. Probably both. The touch seems to alert her to the present though, and her glassy eyes come to meet his. First there’s recognition then something like pure joy in her eyes, and suddenly– suddenly there’s that glint in them again. That dangerous one that elicits an emotion in Kakashi’s gut he only dares to label fear out of propriety and _genuine_ terror of what it actually might be.

“Hm?” She hums, a smile on her face that’s supposed to look innocent but couldn’t be further from it. He waits for her to continue, acknowledge what he’s said but she’s just staring back at him. Her shoulders lean against the wall and now her hands move to clasp behind her back, effectively pushing her chest out and he thinks this must be punishment for all the ugly things he’s done in this lifetime. It’s inches between their faces really, his fingertips still under her chin and he’s still leaned in toward her, it would be just so laughably easy to kiss the lips she’s gnawing on.

The door to the bar swings open and delivers a slice of noise from inside, along with the mismatched trio stumbling out. A brash song of saving grace.

Yamato looks like he’s aged thirty years in the past 20 minutes that Kakashi has spent outside with Sakura and continues to get older the longer he has to listen to Genma and Ino dirty talk the other. The couple themself is so tightly intertwined, it’s bordering on public indecency, and _where the fuck is Genma’s hand._

“What are _you_ guys doing here?” Yamato’s tone is heavy with all sorts of accusations Kakashi doesn’t feel like entertaining, so he straightens up and his hand falls away from Sakura as though she’s hot iron. Unconvinced his junior still scowls at the pair but the tension in his shoulders begins to ease a fraction.

“I’m walking her home,” Kakashi answers simply, proud to have kept his voice even and his hand slips into his pocket like the other one. Aside from a quick narrowing of his eyes there seems to be no pushback from Yamato and there’s no reason for any. They’re just friends and he’s walked Sakura home plenty of times before, this is no different. It’s not like she’s currently snaking her hand into the pocket of his pants, interlacing her fingers with his reluctant ones and dragging him down the road. All he sees of the three is Yamato’s shake of his head and Ino and Genma in the distance, pressed swiftly into the darkness between street lamps.

His heartbeat skyrockets higher with every step and the blood in his ears creates a deafening cacophony of panic and anticipation. _This is dangerous,_ Kakashi thinks and there’s a long moment in which he contemplates ripping his hand from hers because that’s the first step to eradicating temptation, but he doesn’t. Keeps them in place like she holds them for a reason. Sakura’s fingers are soft and warm, so warm it’s almost hot and with them laced together with his he can’t remember if he’s ever felt warm before now.

Sakura has no fucking idea what she’s doing but therein lies the thrill of spontaneity. The joy of being reckless, the exhilaration of just doing what feels good. Like being a child and getting up a 3am to eat your birthday cake in front of the open fridge. Or like masturbating in the bathtub drunk on your own. Or like bathing in a cold fresh stream on a long mission. Or, you know, like finally making a move on someone that’s been making you feel like liquid fire, ember and ashes all in one, with barely so much as a glance.

She’s feeling it now, high on adrenaline and short of breath with impatience, so she doesn’t think. Once they’re round the corner her body moves on it’s own accord; since she’s known him, she’s started to march to the beat of her own drum and she has no intention of stopping now. Her hand shakes free of his but before he can mourn the loss of her warmth, they’re on his chest and she’s shoving him into the rickety fence, glowing and radiant with delight over his gasp.

If he had any doubts about being punished for past sins until then, Kakashi is sure, that this is the ultimate retribution. There is no thought, no inner voice, no feeling even, because all there is, is static. The look on her face, that expression of pure ardor and greed is rendering him mute and still. The punishment belies in the fact that he cannot give into this, that he must override every urge known to himself and exercise restraint that’s been ground into him since his bones started to ache with growth. If he’s ever seen bait for a contract with the devil, she is it. She is too good, too ideal to not be a sin itself and while Kakashi is not a religious man, he cannot make himself believe that she doesn’t have harsh consequences.

He’s frozen like a deer in headlights and Sakura kind of can’t believe her luck. She’s got him pinned with her own body, hands sliding up over his firm chest and snaking their slippery path over the different textures of his jonin uniform. As though her fingertips are rising water, his breath halts in his throat at the contact, the gentle caress on his sharp jaw could as well be a knife, he cannot tell pleasure from pain with her.

Achingly slowly Sakura pinches the fabric of his mask between her fingers, it’s soft and worn from years of use. She’s painted the mysterious picture of his face in her head for years, secretly gathering as much data as she could with a grotesque amount of stolen glances and downright disturbing studies of his sleeping face. All she’s got so far is the fact that his nose is slim and elegant and his jaw strong and very much able to make her knees gooey like caramel. Sakura is fucking sick and tired of waiting and as sexy a tease might be, she’s run out of patience. It’s one swift flick of her wrist and the navy blue fabric is pooled around his neck.

A hush falls over them both, Kakashi rigid with dread and Sakura awestruck. She cannot decide what to look at first. With how much she’s had to drink and how fast her eyes rush over his features, she should be _sick._ But she’s drinking him in, the same way she did months ago at the fireside, and the thirst just cannot seem to be quenched. His lips are plump, especially his bottom lip and they’re flush from his hammering heartbeat. A faint tan line cuts across his face and Sakura can’t think of anything that’s ever made her as dizzy as his face is making her. She’s burned and pined for him so long and when her eyes catch sight of that freckle, bordering on being a beauty mark below his lip, she inwardly perishes.

And then— _then_ her face breaks and Sakura laughs.

“I can’t believe it. I can_not_ fucking believe it. You’re all this,” she gestures to his body, “Kakashi, the infamous goddamn Copy Nin. The shinobi that makes kunoichi _wet_ country wide with just how skilled he is. The mystery with the mask, the one I’ve heard _countless_ rumours about, supposedly having a silver tongue in more than one way and then— Then you’re also _this_ handsome? This has got to be a joke!” She’s almost hysterical with how hard she’s laughing and this seems to be the key, because it breaks Kakashi’s trance and now there’s all her fire and heat in _his_ eyes. Laughter catches in the air and the noise twists in her throat into a breathless moan, birthed from the tips of her lungs when he flips them, and it’s now _her_ bare back pressed hard against the fence.

Over the past five, maybe six months Sakura has found her piety. She’s dreamed, prayed, sighed and pleaded in quiet moments of the night to and with every deity known to man to one day be rewarded with adoration and fervency, from _him_ preferably, for her excruciating struggle with Sasuke over ten years that might as well have been eons. Was it so easy now, did she get her wish so readily?

_Of course not._ Sakura thinks, when it registers in the hazy space of her mind that while _yes,_ there is an overwhelming amount of desire in his slate grey eye - so much so that she has to swallow down another sigh and can feel the wanton stick of silk against the apex of her thighs - there is rage in it too. Her body is not her own and listens to no command of hers it seems, for feeble fingers find his face again and push the hitai-ate up and expose his sharingan. If she’s getting this now, or rather if she is _not,_ she at least wants to curse him with all the desire she can convey through locked eyes.

  
It’s the old ache, the old urge again. Her sick craving to be burned by electricity, like swimming in a storm and hoping lightning will catch up with you.

If she touches him now, he’ll have lost and seal his fate of burning to a crisp for all eternity. If her hands of fire find his hair there’s no going back anymore, his resolve will melt like snow under the first sun of spring. Just like in battle his hands move faster than light, too fast for her sage eyes, and her wrists are caught in his right hand, left thumb ghosting like air over her forming shiner.

“Don’t do this,” he murmurs, voice gravelly yet smooth like rocks on the riverbed and Sakura is caught off guard. Can’t hold the sensuous sigh sneaking past parted lips. The sound rouses a feeling roiling in his gut, the same as Chidori before he had the Sharingan. Uncontrollable and white hot, so he growls at her like he’s a savage animal. She moans. He pleads, “Don’t do this to me. _I beg you._”

Her eyes soften and fuck, a taste won’t kill him, will it? _Maybe it will, but I’d drink poison if it tastes the way she feels against me._

Thusly, Kakashi submits. He’s shaking and she can feel it before his lips even meet hers from the way his breath shudders against her skin. He’s gentle and tense, and the kiss is chaste. So he kisses her again. Once, twice and she tastes like his beer and blood and the candy flavored lip gloss she wore that evening. Beneath it all he thinks he can taste _her,_ something sweet but deep. It’s not vanilla, it’s not so simple, not so _plain,_ and neither is the kiss. His hand snakes to the nape of her neck, threading through the soft fluff of baby hairs and it rolls a shiver like thunder down her spine. She does not push him; Sakura was right when she told Ino about the fear she saw in his eyes that one time she invited him in.

She can taste it on his lips at first, and then that bitter sweetness is on the tip of his tongue as he’s apprehensively deepening the kiss. There’s a sigh from the back of his throat and Sakura will be damned if she lets this opportunity pass in favor of his fear. So she opens her mouth as hot and wide to him as she wishes and to her delight, he eagerly responds in kind. She thinks this is paradise, could stay this way until the last day ends, but just when things get good and her loins feel tight and her stomach flips in that familiar way, he slows to a stop. The kiss is over and he takes a quick breath still hovering a hair away from her face, noses brushing against each other and as though he can’t help himself he hastily and urgently presses two more kisses to her swollen lips. Hot and decreasingly open mouthed until it’s a last chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth and the night’s spring breeze washes cold over her.

He’s stepped back and she watches through her delirious gaze as he bites hard down on his thumb. Sakura licks her lips to her own surprise when thick hot drops of blood spring forth and he shoots her a pained gaze. _Don’t do this to me. _Her ears ring and all her bones vibrate in her flesh when his palm strikes the earth. Did she hear the crack of his wrist? Kakashi shows no sign of pain and straightens up into his signature slouch. A comfort of faking casualness he clings to, like his life depends on it.

He fucked up. He fucked up so bad and Kakashi knows now what they mean when people say that they’re hooked on a drug from first use. The pressure in his lungs should lead him to believe he’s beneath the ocean and its weight, and he keeps drawing shaky breaths with all muscles at tension because he cannot surrender to this primal need of kissing her and doing other awful, reprehensible acts with her right here on the open road. A violently shaking hand drags his mask back into place and he keenly avoids Sakura’s presence still leaning to the fence.

With a curt nod Kakashi now greets the two ninken at his feet, narrowing his eyes at Pakkun in a silent warning to not ask any questions, at least not now, and just do as he’s told. The pug gives a barely visible nod, folding his chin into the lack of his neck.

“Bull, take her home. Pakkun, look out for her.”

“Yes, boss.”

Sakura’s chest caves in with disappointment, it’s so visceral of a sensation that she has to trace her sternum and it’s attaching ribs with chakra laced finger tips. None of this could be real and he is making that clear, it cracks her apart. She blinks away the fog of lust, shakes her head a little even and when Bull’s slobbering nose nudges her hand she lastly meets Kakashi’s gaze. It’s a sight she’s never seen before: even with his mask drawn back up, _what a shame,_ she can see the intense blush ruddying his cheeks and the look in his eyes is as piercing as x-ray.  
  
There’s letters and syllables gathering at the tip of her tongue but they swirl together in gibberish, not making words and she won’t let them escape her mouth.

With a gulp that makes his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat he closes the distance between them, his lips, now safe behind the mask, press to her sore mouth once more before he lets them rest against her forehead right above the seal of the Strength of A Hundred. Five seconds feel like five years and her eyes roll to the back of her head when his mouth is at her earlobe, voice raw and he rasps, “I’m sorry.”

A rush of air ruffles her disheveled locks and Sakura is alone on the road save for the two ninken leaning to her bare shins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for all the lovely engagement on my last chapter, it really motivated me so hooray for this longer one!


	4. rage and retaliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m terrible and didn’t proofread half of this, but the new chapter is here!

Wide awake and much too sober now Sakura leans down onto the cool porcelain of her bathroom sink and breathes. The taste of vomit still clings to the base of her tongue and she has a stray urge to cry when she realizes that the taste he left behind is washed away with bile and beer. With shaky hands she turns the sputtering faucet on and liberally rinses her mouth, washes the running water up her hands, up her wrists and forearms, as if to wash away the goosebumps on her skin when she thinks of him. No luck there, so she sighs. A shower would do good, a shower would ease away tension and maybe the thundering of water will overpower the thunder in her chest. The thunder behind her navel and the strike of lightning down between her legs.

* * *

  
What kind of lunatic is at her door at this ungodly hour? The offensive time is around ten am but in hangover hours it might as well be four in the morning. Sakura’s head is thick, buried in her fluffed up pillows and pounds in unison with her heartbeat when the insistent rap of knuckles at her front door suddenly ceases. Then, a loud thud and a commotion she can’t quite pick apart nor hear the words to.

“You!” Ino hollers as she lifts the second shoe in her hand, ready to throw it in the general direction of his head. The first one is already flung down the hallway, forlornly awaiting retrieval.

“Is Sakura up?”

“Oh, _that’s_ rich. No, she isn’t, asshole!”

But there’s a mess of light pink peeking through a doorway, glowering at the intruder as she moves toward the kitchen. “Yes, I am.” A pause in which Ino is flaring her nostrils dramatically and the coffee machine springs to life with its grind and whirr. “Let him in.”

Ino knows there’s an unspoken addendum to this. _Leave us alone._

She steps aside and vanishes behind one of the three glazed white doors lining the hall. He needs no instructions, no coaxing or invitation as soundless steps carry him to the kitchen where he finds his barrier. The door frame seems a good enough place as any to stand so he leans his shoulder into it and crosses his arms, looking at anything in the room but her. Her presence is making him sweat already and proximity is the last thing he can handle, especially when all she’s wearing seems to be a shirt multiples sizes too large for her.

_That can’t be hers. She doesn’t listen to that band, does she? Wait. Is that a cigarette burn in the hem? I have a—_

“Is that my t-shirt?”

Their eyes meet and sparks fly. _When the fuck did she sneak that?_

“Yeah. Want it back?”

Kakashi almost stretches out his hand when he realizes what she tried to set up, instead he gives her a shrug and shoves cramped fists into his pockets.

“Consider it yours.”

A curt nod is all she replies with and without a word she sets a chipped coffee mug down on the side of the counter closest to him. Splash of cream, no sugar. Like a cornered animal he waits for her to put the counter between them again to step up and accept the cup. She takes a pensive sip, then scowls at him.

“Why are you here?”

“You said you wanted to try that run down barbecue on the edge of town sometime, figured might as well today. Seems like good hangover food.”

Her mouth turns into a small surprised ‘O’. This is how he wants to play it? She can play that.  
Before, there were no boundaries between them. They were friends and shinobi — there is no place for awkwardness or discomfort when you have to trust the other with your life. On missions they shared beds and tents and bed rolls. She’s seen him naked multiple times as he has seen her, rivers don’t grant privacy and ten minutes to wash up are too precious for false modesty. That idiot is reckless and she’s the best healer right after Tsunade, so he doesn’t give much of a shit about broken bones, she’ll knit him back together anyway. Sakura has touched Kakashi inside and out and it was all fine and friendly up until it wasn’t. If he thinks they can just go back to that, Sakura will take great joy in proving to him that they cannot.

“Sounds good. You paying?” She’s already halfway around the corner of the counter before she snickers and shakes her head. He’s rooted to the spot like the cenotaph. “Ah, who am I kidding. Let me just throw on some underwear and pants.” Heart in his throat he glares at her because his mouth is watering at the knowledge that she’s going commando under _his_ shirt, and that’s just grotesque. She knows it too. Knows what she does to him. Sakura breezes past him and his eyes burn into her back, but she can’t help it. It’s quick and easy and soon the shirt is up and over her head, baring her bare backside to him as she slinks away to her bedroom. His knees are weak and his knuckles white gripping the countertop. _Evil, evil little vixen._

Seventeen minutes pass by and he’s forcing the last sip of coffee down his throat. Even with his ears ringing he can hear the hushed argument from her room. Ino’s lecture and Sakura’s sulky bitten retorts. It ends with the crash of glass and Ino’s scream of “Fine!” He can only assume what her opinion is of him.

Soon Sakura emerges in a pair of jeans that drive the air from Kakashi’s lungs and make his roomy jonin pants feel much less relaxed. They glove her like they were poured on her in liquid form, like silicone and he notices too late that she’s still wearing his shirt, but tucked into the hem of that sinful gathering of thread calling itself jeans.

“Hungry?” He asks and clears his throat, mouth dry.

“You have no idea.”

* * *

The barbecue is a god awful little place, slimy and fatty and burnt all at the same time. And those are only the tables. They eat there anyway because the awkwardness of finding something else to do is overwhelming to them both and choking down gross food keeps their mouths occupied. No chance for a kiss, no chance for a slipped word. Soon they fall into conversation again, it’s stumbling and rocky at first, like your first ride on a bike. But you can’t really forgot how to ride a bike and neither can they forget how to be easy with each other. The pull is too strong and the yearning for comfort too high, so they give in. Pretend to forget what the other tastes like as they drown it in their food.

After lunch, they walk. They always do, it’s ritual and here at the edge of town the trees and brush are dense and soon they step over roots and duck beneath low hanging branches. Her hangover makes her feel winded faster than it should at her level of fitness. Dizziness closes her vision and she announces quickly that she’d like to sit, so they do.

His gloved fingers brush up against her forehead when he catches sight of something red and angry hidden beneath her bangs. Sakura stiffens at his touch, licks of anger rising up her spine when he has the audacity to hold back her hair all gentile and docile and asks, “What’s that? Did that happen last night?”

She glares and he scowls in confusion.

“Sakura?”

Another long minute full of her hard stares and his hand falls free; she’s burned him again. And burning up she is, there’s heat in her eyes and growing redness spreading over her cheeks and chest.

“Did one of my ninken–”

“No! No, they didn’t! Nothing like that, you fucking— It was an accident. It was... It happened because of— Ah, for fuck’s sake, it happened because of you!”

Kakashi can’t follow. There’s a brief look of embarrassment washing over her face, but it happens so fast that even he can’t be sure he caught it. A decision is made, he understands though because Sakura is on him. She’s climbing into his lap and speaks, “I hit my head in the shower last night and forgot to heal it until now. I hit it because I slipped.”

Her breath is hot on his ear and Kakashi’s choking. Is this going to be a repeat of the night before? The sunlight is breaking through the leaves and where it dapples their tangled forms, it burns. Her arms are around his neck, and he can’t spare the thought of what a wonderful noose she makes. One he would gladly tie around his neck day after day if he was selfish enough. Right now, Sakura is about to slide her fingers into his hair and it sets him into motion. He catches her wrists in his hands and holds them to her chest.  
Kakashi has never felt particularly strongly about his hair or about women touching it, threading it through their fingers when other touches were so much more thrilling. But, of course, she has to be different. To her and with her it’s this whole big deal. Like everything kind of is, right? Full throttle. Always. She cut her hair during the chuunin exams even though Sasuke supposedly liked her hair long, she’s told him this, one quiet night in a shabby inn. She said it was liberating, if not from that painful crush, but from her insecurities and doubts, it was. Quietly, when the conversation was dying down she’d said that hair is intimate and he’s never looked at it the same way again.

In the present her breath hitches in her throat and he can feel the sharpness of her inhale against him.

“I slipped because I was getting myself off. I thought of you as I did it. I wished for you when I touched myself here,” she snakes her right hand from his loose hold and softly cups her breast; she’s so close to his ear, her lips make contact with its shell. “And here.” He’s more reluctant to let her left hand go because he knows its destination, but she’s forceful and shakes him off swiftly. His resolve is wearing thin like the threadbare shirt beneath his jonin vest; one more tumble in the washing machine and there might be a hole. She lets her hand travel down, flat and pressed against her body from the dip of her waist down to where’s she spreading her thighs. At the brush of her own fingertips over herself, covered and damp, she lets out a sigh and Kakashi thinks he’s going to perish right then and there, beneath her. As he should.

“_Stop,_” his breath comes chopped and ragged, his eyes are pressed shut, trying to conjure any other image in his mind that might extinguish the inferno raging from his hips up into his throat. His mind is blank and that’s the best he can do, so he takes blankness over what she’s offering to him.

She does not stop, she’s panting softly when she says, “I thought about what you would feel like. How you would’ve stretched me, up against that fence, when I slipped a finger inside me.” For emphasis she squeezes over herself and releases a small, needy sound. He’s delirious with pain and ardor. A quirk of her eyebrow, his face is open like a book to her even with the mask. Sakura grins, “Okay, maybe it was two fingers.”

A crisp thud echoes as his head falls back against the bark with a stifled groan, and it is _agony_ she sees in his eyes when he looks at her. He’s hard beneath her, she can feel him against her thigh like a branding iron, but his arms hang limp. She wishes he’d touch her. Pink flashes as her tongue darts out between her teeth to wet her lips and her hands fall away from herself, fisting into his flak vest instead.

“When I came, I came so hard I lost my footing for a minute there,” she can’t help it and laughs, but the sound is hollow and Kakashi begins to realise. “And I smacked my head into the wall, that’s how I got this. So it’s your fault.”

He’s terrified under her, the lithe weight of her body is crushing him slowly and painfully because he understands. Sakura isn’t trying to get a rise, _ or more,_ out of him. This is punishment, this is rage and retaliation. It’s precise torture and with how flawlessly she’s executing it, he should suggest her to T&I.

“I’m sorry,” he grinds out, repeats his prayer from the night before, trying to shift under her but she just makes a show of feeling him and sighing over the contact, whereas he grits his teeth.

“You don’t get to play with me, you don’t get to kiss me like that,” her voice is a hiss and Kakashi does not feel the cut of it because he agrees. He does not get that, he has no rights to her. “You don’t get to kiss me like that _and then not fuck me._ Honestly, what the hell?”

Kakashi blinks, drunk on her rage and guilt laid thick on him that it takes one, two, three heartbeats until he understands. She still wants this, she still wants him.  
It should enrapture him with joy, with eagerness and relief but the hungry mouth of everlasting guilt devours all brightness blossoming in him. If he indulged her, it would be bliss but it could not last. He is not good for people and it does everyone a favor that he keeps himself company. She’s been too close too long already. She doesn’t want him that way and Kakashi does not trust himself to act infatuated with her body only. That’s not something he can tell her though. He’s read enough Icha Icha to know that scenarios like this only end well in novels.

“It was out in the street, people could’ve seen,” he replies lamely, voice heavy and thick with something that makes Sakura quiver and squeeze around nothing.

“Kind of hot if you ask me. You could’ve taken me home, like you said you would.”

“I said, I’d _walk_ you home. Besides, we could’ve bumped into Ino and Genma, I don’t need to see that and we’d never hear the end of it.”

Sakura snorts and sets her jaw. “And you didn’t even do that! _Besides,_ you _saw_ them walking in the other direction. That’s not where we live. _You know,_ we wouldn’t have met them.”

“You have neighbours and like, seriously paper thin walls. And before you say it,” he’s wedged a hand between them, index finger raised in warning, “my neighbors are tattletales and keep good rapport with Yamato.”

It is strange how quickly they became comfortable in this position, arguing now like she couldn’t grind her hips down into him and shatter his being.

Sakura levels him with a glare so icy, he fights off a shudder rippling over his stomach. “Fucking stop acting like it is other people you fear.” At that she rolls her hips just once into him before pushing up to stand. “I hate that you’re making a decision for both of us without consulting me. This isn’t how we work. This is not us.”

The few missions she goes on, the ones she squeezes between bloodshot twelve hour shifts at the hospital, she goes on with him. They’re a team, unstoppable and entwined like cogs in a machine.

His eyes are soft but his hands still shake when he pushes off the earth and strings himself up to stand. Not straight, of course, Sakura thinks sometimes he’s forgotten how to unfurl his spine to full capacity, but he still towers over her and maybe it’s fine that he slouches. His lips are closer to hers this way anyway.

The calloused pad of his thumb brushes over her cheek where the bruise was forming last night. Now there’s nothing but smooth silken skin. He’d like to kiss it.

“That’s the point.”

Her hand strikes him, the clap of skin against fabric is dull but the pain is not.

“Fuck you.”


	5. treat me like a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! If you clicked on this notification as a previous reader and think to yourself _???? the fuck?? Where did the chapters go? I thought we were up to chapter 9!_
> 
> Uh, yup! But here’s the thing: bite of lightning was my first ever fic and I really poured my heart and soul into it when I started writing last November, just to get it out. No plot in mind, just a feeling and that… became blatantly obvious by chapter 5 and I kept half of that up to the point where I started to hate it. I rushed the non-existent plot and myself and completely tainted the story for myself. I hated everything I put out after that for this fic and it slipped into a direction that made me resent this and that hurt my heart. Because I do very much love the first four chapters I wrote, I really really do, and that’s why I decided to delete everything I disliked and rewrite.
> 
> I have a plot, it’s not as “intricate” as my other current WIPs but it’s a plot, and I’m much more pleased and excited to write for this again and finish it at one point! I hope you enjoy this new direction and fear not: I have saved the old chapters in a word doc and screenshotted every single comment because they carried me through it all. without all your encouragement, I would have never started my other works and I’m so grateful. Thank you for all your love and I hope you can love this again, maybe as much as I do <3

Bile rises in her throat, thick and acrid and choking her like tar. Even if she has to stare up at him as he towers over her, it is enough, her impact is earth shattering and he almost withers under her gaze. Those mint green eyes of hers are narrowed so dangerously. Her snarl defiant, and Sakura is _so_ sick of his self-righteous bullshit.

“No one’s asking you to be this pinnacle of morality. No one’s asking you to be some fucking white knight, protecting everyone at your expense. _I’m_ not asking you to be that,” her tone is clipped, frustration lodged in her throat like a clump of thorns. “So, fucking quit it. Martyrdom isn’t attractive. It makes me ill.”

Her words strike harder than her palm and he resists the urge to press his hand to his chest, right to the spot where it feels like caving in. The pesky question of morality seems to string itself throughout his life like a red thread and now it ties his guts into knots and bows. It wraps around his neck and chafes his skin raw. His attempt to not give into her last night was pathetic, and just like he failed that, he failed to not hurt her. Even if he isn’t her sensei anymore, he feels that it is his duty to protect her from _all_ threat and pain. Including him.

But, all things considered, he can’t say what cut her deeper. Was it what he did or what he _didn’t_ do? Kakashi is at the crossroads when he meets her wild eyes now. _Strike a pact with the devil or back away into misery._

As shinobi they know to trust their gut, but his tells him that he wants the earth to swallow him up. That he wants to die right here.

_Death. Of course._ The answer strikes him so swiftly that it can’t be right, but his body is set in motion.

Perhaps it is a child’s argument, but his subconscious contends that in the end you regret the things you _didn’t_ do more than the things you did. His life has flashed before his eyes so many times already and if he lets this pass now, if she won’t be in the highlight reel the next time, he might just let himself sink into the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he cups her face with one hand. “I’m sorry,” he repeats when he tugs his mask down and watches the depth of her light green eyes grow dark. “I’m sorry.” Kakashi holds her face gingerly in both hands now like she’s fine china. “I’m sorry.” It’s a mantra, a desperate prayer, a plea for atonement. “I’m sorry.” She feels the friction of the words against her lips.

His mouth is on hers and her hands fist in his collar again, desperately trying to find purchase. Sakura feels like the ground is tipping and her knees buckle. He knows, can feel her body tremble and his arm snakes around her waist. The last time they kissed it was a tug of war between hunger and trepidation, a panicked scramble for something they had no guarantee of ever getting again. He’s kissing her with ancient patience now. Softly, languidly, his tongue curls into her mouth and coaxes a strangled sigh from her chest.

This time, she breaks the kiss. And shoves him hard. “_Stop_. Don’t do this,” she throws his own words back at him, the pained look overpowering her face now instead of his and all he can do after his initial stare of disbelief, is nod. Her unspoken sentiments jump off the walls in his skull until it cracks, they overlay with his own voice. _Don’t do this to me. Don’t be tender with me._

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes flutter closed, and he can almost see her chakra flare like flame.

“Shut the _fuck_ up. Stop saying that! You’re not sorry and neither am I, but stop this,” her voice quivers with seething rage and consuming desire. “I’m not your exercise in restraint.”

She knows she’s played with him, certainly more so than he has with her, but this game of hot and cold makes her feel sick and feverish. Her blood pressure is too low for this, she’s too dehydrated and after last night she does not trust herself. And worse than this back and forth would only be his regret afterward; Sakura does not want to bear witness to his self torture. Not now, maybe not ever.

“Make up your mind. I have to go.”

Kakashi adjusts his mask and slides his hands into his pockets. She does not look back at him when she climbs over roots and disappears among the thicket.

* * *

She does not see him. She does not hear from him. It is days that pass by, days she spends at the hospital from sun up until sun down and longer. Until they bleed together, amount to a week and she pretends to forget about him. Not that Ino would let her forget. Between needle sharp remarks that burrow in between her ribs and shove up under her skin, and her caring reassurance as she serves her dinner and takes off her makeup when Sakura’s passed out on the couch, Ino makes sure that Sakura does _not_ forget.

* * *

“You lied to me,” her words thread in with the strands of long rose coloured hair she pleats over the back of the sofa. “You said you weren’t in love.”

Sakura’s lids flutter but stay closed. _Is it a lie if you believed yourself when you said it?_

She has no answer to herself nor to her best friend and stays quiet, pretends to be asleep.

* * *

Truth be told, he doesn’t know if this is the right way forward. Sakura has dragged him so far off trail he doesn’t know which way is home anymore. Therefore, he looks to the sky, to the sun, to point his inner compass due north. The sun does not look back at him though and continues her work as head of the village.

“Did anything happen between you two?” Tsunade asks evenly without so much as a glance away from the myriad of scrolls scattered across her desk, making notes on a sheet of paper close to the edge. It’s not often that her shinobi come with requests like these to her, but she is not concerned. Not this time. He’s asking her for a cheap solution; nothing worth her energy. What he's asking of her won't last long anyway, she knows this.

Kakashi shrugs, passively, "No, not really."

The Godaime hums and he has to wrestle with every fibre of his being to not tense up when she directs her gaze at him. His answer displeases her, he sees this in the twitch of her brow and the set of her jaw. He sees it in her eyes too, in those honey coloured irises, piercing him as unyielding as the kunai in his pouch. It always unnerved him how such warm eyes can look so cold.

“Then why are you asking me to divide my best team?”

His mask grows suddenly suffocating between his deep breaths, but he stays calm, won’t even shift his weight. Not for as long as Tsunade looks at him like she can see his skeleton and all the ones kept in his closet.

“No particular reason,” he shrugs again, but clears his throat when she levels him with a highly unimpressed stare. She isn’t buying. “I just think it would be better for Sakura. She's been so involved with the clinic and—”

“Don't you think that's her call?” Tsunade interrupts with a click of her tongue and shakes her head. “You're not her sensei anymore, Kakashi. It's not your place.” He knows it too, but Tsunade’s eyes narrow and Kakashi can feel cold sweat bead up along his spine. “Anyway, I really don't think you know what's best for her.”

It’s as harsh of a slap as the one Sakura struck him with a couple weeks ago and it stings. Unmoving both from his slouch and his place in front of her desk, Kakashi is silent for a long time. Neither the mask nor the hitai-ate protect him from her words or the way she reads him like an open book.

"I think Sakura and I need some space," he says eventually, and his voice is quiet but even.

_This_ Tsunade can understand. Graciously, _kind_ even, she nods and Kakashi flees on silent soles. His nose stuck in _Icha Icha Tactics_ and his mission scroll tugged neatly into the pocket of his flak vest, he does not look back as he passes the gates.

* * *

The hours bleed into days and days blend into weeks, and Sakura can't tell anymore if the sun is rising or setting when she leaves the hospital. All she knows is work and rage; her veins are pumped full of diligence and fury. She hasn't seen him in almost a month, not after he snuck off to a mission like a dog with his tail between his legs, and Tsunade had broken the news to her over sake and spite. If Kakashi knows what's good for him, he won't cross her path any time soon.

_But has he ever truly known what's good for him?_

She’s at Ichiraku's with Kiba, Ino and Hinata when she learns that Kakashi is as reckless as she is forceful.

It feels like it has been centuries at this point since Sakura has laughed from deep within her belly, and this lunch date with her friends is exactly the kind of thing she didn't know she needed. Like a spell of rain after a drought, it refreshes her from deep within. Her ribs hurt from the strain of joy when they compose themselves eventually and dip their heads back to their bowls. Above Ino's near endless chatter the medic can hear the rustle of the canvas flap moving aside and someone familiar being greeted, but Sakura doesn't care to look or say hello to any familiar faces. She's been taking care of the village most of her waking moments lately and right now she just wants her friends to take care of her. God knows that someone has to do it, since it won't be Sakura herself.

Hinata is the first to notice Kakashi, and the Hyūga heiress stiffens immediately in her seat upon the sight of unruly silver hair. Pale lavender irises widen marginally, looking anxiously at Sakura sat across from her. It's a good thing she faces the kitchen instead of the entrance as she hasn't noticed the returned shinobi at Iruka's side. With measured breaths Hinata turns her head to the side and catches the hard blues of the blonde sat next to her.

Everything about Ino spells alarm, from the suddenly rigid posture of her shoulders to the way her full lips press into a thin line, and now Hinata wrings her hands and swallows. The dread she feels for the impending storm settles in her stomach heavily, and her face flushes bright as her eyes draw back to the other side of the shop.

While maybe not as sensitive or empathetic as her best friend, Sakura still doesn't miss the sudden change of air surrounding her girlfriends sat across from her. The smile reserved for them freezes on her face and she stops her chop sticks halfway to her mouth, now noticing the flush on her friend’s cheeks.

“Hinata?”

But Kiba – sweet, _stupid_ Kiba – follows Hinata’s milky irises when they flit to the counter and the two men standing there, and he swings an arm across the bench he’s sharing with Sakura. It rests right behind her shoulders as he spots Kakashi. A wide, honest grin exposes all his sharp canines when he calls out, bright and dumb, “Hey Kakashi-sensei! Long time no see, come joi–”

His words lodge in his throat and die there with a yelp as Ino kicks him swiftly in the shin. When he opens his mouth to complain, she kicks him again.

The Copy Nin freezes in his spot. He’s seen Sakura as soon as the canvas flap was pushed aside by Iruka, her light pink head draws his eye whether he wants it or not, but it is too late. Too late for an excuse, too late for an apology, too late for a haste exit and Kakashi does what he does best: he overrides his body's fight or flight response and fakes indifferent nonchalance.

"Yo," he greets and lifts his hand in a lazy two-finger salute. Sakura can feel her heart beat twice as hard against her sternum, pumping venom and wrath through her veins when she sees his eye crinkle in a smile.

Her chopsticks clatter on the table and he forces himself to plant his feet, but his instincts are humming like bees. She's hardly out of her seat but every person in the shop, both staff and customers, recoils from her.

“_You,_" she hisses and Kakashi's skin prickles with dread. Her voice is so low, so hostile, it carries just as much weight – if not _more –_ as her shishou's thundering boom. "How fucking _dare_ you?"

Nerves get the best of him when she moves into his space and he backs away as though she burns. The look on her face is open but dangerous, she looks ready to punch him into the next dimension. Knowing her, Sakura just might.

“You are such a fucking coward,” her words come thick and bitter and she bares her teeth at him when his shoes hit the gravel.

Even if she strikes mortal fear into him, Kakashi forces himself to come to a stop and he wears his aloof expression like his mask. The last time he lost his cool it just made everything worse and as deep as her tone wounds him, it is for the best. A clean cut is to both their benefit. He does not trust himself and this is the mature choice. “You asked me to make up my mind and I did,” Kakashi defends, drawing all the measly steel and strength he can muster from his ribs and spine since his heart is brittle and weak, “I made up my mind. This is my decision.”

“Oh, is it?” She mocks and the laugh that wrenches free from her chest is eerily hollow and sharp as senbons. He’s nauseous when she picks up again, “because I think you’re just taking the easy way out.”

“Sakura, I’m just doing what’s best,” he grits his teeth and the look in his eyes is strained. The pain radiating from him is so vivid to her, she almost wonders if Ino can feel it, if she can feel her own heart ache inside the shop. When he shrugs again, Sakura swallows. “If that makes me a coward, then so be it.”

A realisation strikes her out of nowhere like a thunderbolt and it knocks the air out of her easily. She feels like she is going through the same thing as she did with Sasuke. Again, she is running after a man that thinks so much of himself, be it highly or lowly, that he makes a decision over her head for the both of them as if it didn’t concern her. And she wishes it didn’t. Sakura is tired. Bone tired. Exhausted from not being taken into account and the crushing weight of their arrogant male patronising is wearing even her out.

Yet most of all she is drained by the surprise. She hadn’t expected this of Kakashi, despite his apprehensions, but now she could laugh at herself and it takes even more strength out of her to keep the bitter smile curling her lips at bay. Sakura has thought before that he and Sasuke reminded her of two sides of the same coin, she just never expected that they’d both break her heart in the same manner.

After a long moment of terse silence, Sakura snorts mirthlessly and shakes her head. Her lips crack into a sour grin and all colour drains from his face. “No, Kakashi. You’re doing what is best for _you_. You didn’t take me into consideration at all.”

“Sakura, that's not–” He tries to defend but she strikes him silent with one look of her ruthless, jade eyes.

“I thought we were friends, you know?”

“You didn't treat me like a friend either.”

As much as her pain is scraping along his skin like shuriken, she forgets that he is losing this too. That he has been hurt as much as her, if not more. He is not the only one that made a choice without consulting her. When she chided him for martyrdom, did she think she was immune to it?

Sakura stares for a long moment, gobsmacked and with her eyes wide as her lips press hard together to keep from gaping like a fish. She knows he is right, but it feels like a slap across the face nevertheless. Before his now hard eyes she is suddenly an inch tall. Like she is the genin from a decade ago, ambushed by her arrogant teacher from her blind spot. It’s humiliating and Sakura feels her bones crack as she crashes through the ocean’s surface, bested by her own hubris.

A quiet voice inside her head, a voice she hasn’t heard in a _long_ time, adds insult to injury. In poised tones, it suggests that maybe he is not trying to be a martyr, that maybe he is just letting her down in the most graceful way he knows.

_Is he perhaps _truly_ rejecting you?_

Sakura squares her shoulders and her joints protest under the strain, but she raises her chin anyway. Her throat feels raw. "I'll see you around, Kakashi-sensei."

The honorific swings for his chest like a sledgehammer and he almost crashes to his knees right at her feet.

Sakura’s gaze moves from his, barely a few inches past his head and yet Kakashi suddenly feels cold; as though he’s never known warmth, much less her heat.

She shoulders him out of the way harshly as she leaves.

* * *

The grocery bags scatter from his arms like marbles when a petite figure attacks him from the shadows. Her healing hands rip and tear at his jacket when she drags him into the alley behind his building. He’s numb and submitting to her, moving like her toy in every which way she pleases until his back hits the brick and he lets out a groan from deep within his throat.

Sakura almost hisses at him like a feral cat and he can feel her fingers shake across his cheeks as he sinks his hand into her hair and wraps an arm around her waist. It’s unclear to him if it is her blatant anger wafting off her like chakra or his own scorching desire for her but just for a moment, he can’t bring himself to stop this.

Her breath comes hot and panting against his face when she peels the mask down but there’s barely a second for Kakashi to even register it before her lips replace the fabric across his mouth. She’s eager and angry, and almost bites him when he tips her head just so to deepen the kiss. Her tongue brushes over his own and it’s like an electric jolt, his eyes snap open with the realisation of what is happening.

In the fraction of a second he breaks the kiss and pulls away from her, barely holding her back by the thin fabric of her wrap dress as he’s desperately moving to disentangle his hand from her hair.

“_Sakura_,” he pants and presses flatter against the brick as he stands tall, _too tall for her_, if only to keep his mouth out of her reach as he finds her shoulders with shaking hands to push her back further. As expected, she will have none of it and grips the front of his jacket so tightly in her effort to bring him back to her, she might rip the fabric.

He directs his gaze up to the night sky moving along between antennas and phone wires and tries to breathe, tries to compose himself but his heart pounds so rapidly against his chest he’s sure she can feel it under the steely grip she’s got on him.

“Kakashi,” Sakura seethes but he shakes his head and digs his fingers into her shoulders. _Just a moment. _She grants him that at least.

When he finally chances a peek down at her he’s struck. Kakashi expected naked, suffocating rage. Something like her top lip drawn back in a feral snarl as she pierces him with a wrathful glower, but he didn’t expect _this_. The flush on her face glows with more passion and longing than with retaliation and vengeance. The scowl knitting her brows together twitches with the ebb and flow of her emotions and her reddened lips are parted softly, but what steals the breath from his lungs are her eyes. Instead of narrowed and glinting, they’re large and pleading beneath the spark of scorn brightening them to peridot.

The jōnin swallows hard and with his grip on her shoulders softening he can feel his resolve crumble. Sakura zeroes in on the opening in his defences like a hawk and pushes her luck as she drags him back down by the collar. He’s yielding and lets her.

Guilt makes his limbs feel leaden, yet when her lips meet his once more there’s lightness moving them that he has a hard time ignoring. It feels like chakra, like the prickle of chidori. Carried by the updraft he lets himself drink her in, become intoxicated on her taste as he turns them in their spot. Sakura cheers inwardly, even if despair is still driving her forward as she loops her arms around his neck and drags his bottom lip between her teeth.

The breathless sigh escaping against his mouth when he lifts her by her bottom makes him delirious and as if he’s losing his balance, he presses against her and the wall harder for stability. She welcomes him with her legs wrapped around his waist and her heat radiating against him like a potbelly stove. They groan in coincidental unison; Sakura’s lids flutter at the feeling of how hard he is against her and Kakashi in agony as he breaks away from her again.

He can’t do this. The memory of this afternoon is still so fresh in his mind, he can’t let it get this far again. With every time he has to wrench himself away from her, it takes more and more strength and after her verbal lashing of the day he is weak and wounded. Instead of pulling away entirely he rests his forehead against her shoulder, his grip on her thighs and the curve of her ass bruising.

“Kakashi,” she hisses again, but he can’t feel the sting of her tone. His blood rushes in his ears and he grinds his jaw.

“_No_, Sakura, I _can’t_,” he bites back in a low growl and immediately regrets it as he feels her shudder against his chest.

The kunoichi feels like she is on the verge of breaking, her energy is dwindling so rapidly with each rejection, she _must _call on anger to drive her forward. “Please,” she presses out again through clenched teeth and his head shoots up.

If she were a young teenager again the austerity in his gaze would break her in two, but she has grown and knows her weapons now. Like a dog rolling on her back, she does the opposite of what her instincts tell her to do; she bares herself to him. Vulnerable and atoning as she licks her bottom lip before biting down on it. His eyes follow and she knows it’s working, eating through his resolve like corrosive acid.

It’s her last resort but if this is her only chance, she must make the most of it. One of the hands still fisting in his jacket releases and Kakashi’s breath hitches as her fingertips glide over his chest toward the nape of his neck.

_Hair is intimate_, she said once to him, so many years ago. In a conversation about another man that was making her miserable for so long, and he has half a mind to catch her wrist again, the way he did before, but Kakashi shares her sentiment. If this is it, he wants to feel her hands at least once dragging on his roots.

Sakura has thunder in her ears and lightning in her chest. The thought alone that this is perhaps their only time to be this close again chokes her up and her fingertips tremble as she smoothes them up the nape of his neck. Her eyes are locked on his, she knows the source of his apprehension to this particular touch, but despite the anguish deepening his slate grey eye, he makes no move to stop her. Her breath sticks to her throat as she slides slender fingers into the strands of argent.

Months of agony and wondering are wiped from her mind. All thought is, really. She hears the crackle and feels the charge bite into her fingertips. The connection is instant like a circuit closing and they both let out an aching gasp. Her grip tightens at once and she’s forcefully dragging him back down to her but Kakashi resists again and Sakura digs her nails into his scalp with a whimper.

“Release me, _please_,” she begs against his lips, and Kakashi withers at the hitch in her breath and the thickness of her voice. Her words come fast and her other hand releases from his shirt to cup his jaw as she breathes shuddery around the clump in her throat, “Let’s just be friends, don’t take this from me, but please, _release me_.”

He breathes for a long moment, trying to feel if his heart is still beating in his chest before he nods, soft and pacifying, “okay.”

He swallows the strangled sob straight from her mouth, meeting her greedy kisses with his own ferocity that he’s locked away for weeks now. He moans as her hips roll into him and one of his gloved hands slides up from her thigh to her hip stilling her, but her skirt bunches up around his wrist and Sakura sighs.

The goosebumps his voice trigger draw a shudder after them and as his thumb rubs soothingly over her hipbone before his fingertips ghost along her panty line, Sakura pulls at his hair harder. It’s almost painful now but Kakashi welcomes it, as though the ache keeps him grounded and he definitely needs a tether to earth. Her heat is sweltering, and the cotton of her underwear is _soaked_.

His knees almost buckle when he swipes a thumb over her covered mound and Sakura gasps into his mouth as her eyes squeeze shut. He trails along the edge of her underwear, dragging his knuckles over her bundle of nerves and in the briefest glimpse, they grin against each other. Feeling just momentarily like a normal couple fooling around in the dark rather than… whatever they are.

The moment slips from their hands like oil and Sakura is determined to keep one hand in his hair as if to remind him of what is happening. But her other hand is free, and she trails it from his jaw down to his chest, very obviously making a path for the waistband of his uniform pants and Kakashi growls. She moans. He does not plead with her this time.

Her hand stutters as she bucks her hips and squeezes tight around nothing, but his fingers are not there to soothe the ache. Rather than slip beneath the fabric to where she desires his touch, he catches her wrist and pins it to the brick. The bite of the stone stokes the fire raging in her belly viciously.

“Don’t,” he chokes out and Sakura swallows down the whine threatening to push past her teeth. She knows if she pushes him too far, she ruins this for the both of them. Pleased by her compliance he returns his hand to between her thighs and Kakashi sighs into her skin, caught between pleasure and pain, as he nips at the milky stream of her neck, her jaw and clavicle.

This isn’t what she had in mind exactly. She _aches_ to touch him, to return this favour, but she cannot argue. He’s swallowing his own pain to give her the courtesy of letting her go, the least she can do is compromise.

Instead of touching him where she would like to, her hand moves back up and with soft fingers she pushes at his forehead protector just as he drags her panty aside and brushes his middle finger over her clit. Time freezes and they both gasp wordlessly as their eyes lock. Sakura cants desperately into his touch, letting the crimson of his sharingan draw her under like an unexpected current.

Kakashi is sure at this point that she is actively trying to curse him for life as she makes eye contact, but this time he can retaliate. Setting his jaw, he pushes lower and slips easily among her slick folds, watching closely how Sakura’s sanity slips from her grasp as he pushes against her. Teasingly he tests her pliable entrance and steels his grip on her ass as she chases the feeling of his fingertips every time he moves away again. Ghosting back to her clit, he applies pressure and picks up a pace that makes her dig her fingernails into his shoulder.

“Kakashi,” she whines, and he can’t help the wicked grin curling his lips. Her eyes roll into the back of her head at the sight and he chooses this moment exactly to sink two fingers into her. He drinks her moan straight from her kiss-swollen lips and almost laughs. This must be a slip in time and space; _nothing_ should feel this good. As her chest heaves again, expelling a fresh moan, Kakashi grinds against her and his hand. She pants and curses his name.

“Quiet, Sakura,” he growls against her lips and she whimpers. If she thought he was a merciful lover, she was mistaken, and deep down she thanks her lucky stars for it. She never knew how good her name tasted on his lips and if her head wasn’t swimming in her climb to her orgasm, she might have half a mind to mourn the fact that this is the first and only time he’ll say it like this to her. All thoughts flee her however when he curls his fingers, stroking a spot inside her that makes her quiver as her walls squeeze around him.

With her breaths growing more and more shallow he finds his pants are restricting him painfully and he aches to replace his hand, but Kakashi reasons, if he does that then he won’t be able to release her anymore like she asked. Her core alone is so scorching hot it should boil his fingertips; once he’d be inside her, enveloped by her, body and soul – would he finally understand true warmth? And worse, if this was the only time he would, does that mean he’d be left to freeze after the fact?

Kakashi can’t risk that.

Sakura’s hips begin to jerk as he increases the pressure and pace of his thumb circling her clit and her breaths break free from her chest in a stuttered irregular pace. With frantic hands she pulls him in for feverish kisses, his name falling like a prayer rather than curse from her lips as she cries out, helpless to muffle it. The tide breaks and her orgasm washes over her in fat waves as she rides them to shore.

Soft with her now like she’s made of crystal, Kakashi holds her against him while she comes down from her high and catches her breath. It does not take long enough in his eyes for her to untangle herself from him and lower her feet back to the ground. For a moment it seems to sway under her like she can feel the earth moving until Sakura realizes it is just her knees buckling.

His heart breaks with tenderness at the sight. If he cannot emotionally release her, he hopes that he at least managed to do so physically.

When her hand slides free from his hair at last, he kisses the corner of her mouth and hooks his finger under her chin, tilting her head up to him. Her face is flushed and glows even in the dim light of the alley and her lips are plump and glistening. A sight he won’t ever forget, even without Obito’s gift.

Sakura doesn’t avert her eyes when he lifts her chin and Kakashi knows why as soon as she strikes him with her glare. Even glassy from her orgasm her green irises are sharp and resigned. As a last indulgence he allows himself to swipe his thumb over her bottom lip and Sakura can taste herself on him.

“Friends?”

“Friends.” She barks and shoves him away, breaking the spell forcefully. Glowering still she rights her skirt and underwear before she stalks off into the darkness she came from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come [find me on tumblr](https://pahdme.tumblr.com/)! i tag pretty religiously and my blog is organised if you're looking for anything specific, i also keep general mood tags for my ships and my fics!
> 
> anyway, please tell me what you think of this chapter and the direction i'm taking it in, i'd really appreciate it <3


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